she lives in one of the swankier neighborhoods in Spokane. She has a swimming poolâhell, she has everything ! Her life is perfect.
Perfect, perfect, perfectâsheâs going to be thrilled to find out that not only do I not own a Corvette, but that Iâm a lying sack of shit (âIâve been out of the countryâ) and that Iâm half an orphan.
I look at her handwriting again: Becka Thorson, 555â7778. And again. Becka Thorson 555â7778, Becka Thorson, Becka â¦
I grab the phone and call Wally. I tell him about meeting Becka.
âYeah, right,â he says, laughing.
âReally, Wally, itâs true.â
Dragging out the words like heâs talking to a lying four-year-old, Wally demands, â You met Becka Thorson ⦠the Becka Thorson? You met her and she likes you?â
âI swear to God.â
Wally laughs again. âShe loved the car, right?â
âYeah.â
âYour âVette.â
I get quiet.
âYeah,â Wally says. âThis is gonna work out real good for you.â
As usual, Wally, in his own demented way, is probably right; Iâm screwed.
When Mom gets home from work tonight, Iâm still super high about meeting Becka. The hell with Wally and all his negativismâBecka liked me, I could tell.
Mom comes through the front door, and I holler out, âYo, Mommy-o!â
She laughs and answers, âWell, hi, J-boy.â
These are nicknames from like a thousand years ago, back when Dad was still alive and we were this big, happy family. Or at least we thought we were.
âWhy are you so festive?â Mom asks.
âSorry,â I answer.
Mom laughs again and says, âYou know I didnât mean it like that. Iâm just glad to hear you sound so full of beans.â
âFull of beans?â I tease her. âThatâs really hip, Mom; no, really, you are one cool mack mommy, so in touch with the youthââ
Before I can finish, Mom, a fake anger in her tone, says, âThatâs it, smart aleck! Yer getting smacked down ⦠smacked down hard ⦠now!!!â
Like I mentioned before, Momâs got a good straight right; she has a good left hook, too. Iâm outa here! If I can reach my room before she catches me, Iâll be saved....
NINE
The next day at school, Wally and I sit together in second period, Current World Problems. He canât wait to ask me more about Becka. Sheâs such a somebody at our school, and weâre such nobodies.
Wally, still straining to believe the whole thing, asks, âAre you actually going to phone her?â
âYeah.â
âWhen?â
âSoon, probably tonight.â
âAre you going to tell her the truth?â
Iâve foolishly admitted to Wally my dumb-ass âman of international intrigueâ horseshit. I consider his question for a second. âIf we actually go out, Iâll tell her the truth, face-to-face. Not on the phone before we even see each other again.â
Wally ponders this for about a second. âYeah,â he says, âthatâs a good ideaâyou should actually be with her when she dumps you.â
âThanks, Wal.â
Don and I are working on the âVette in his driveway when I bring up the nitro for about the hundredth time.
Don looks at me. âYou sure got a hard-on about this nitrous booster, donât you?â
I say, âSorry if Iâm bugging you....â
âNo.â Don laughs. âItâs fine. I havenât even tried the nitrous myself yet. Nitrous is not a toy. It causes incredible strain and can make a car old before its timeânitrous is the methamphetamine of the internal combustion engine.â
I ask, âSo why have it?â
âSo that this bad girl, admittedly mild by classic Corvette standards, wonât just look good but can deliver if the demand ever arrives.â
I flash back to my drag race with the guys in